


The Marked Ones

by zoeyschwabbles



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cinnamon Roll Newt Scamander, Dark Past, Elemental Magic, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Fantasy, Fire Magic, Fire Powers, Graphic Description, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Idiots in Love, Magic, Newt is a Dork, Original Character(s), Original Mythology, Protective Queenie Goldstein, Protective Tina Goldstein, Russia, Strangers to Lovers, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeyschwabbles/pseuds/zoeyschwabbles
Summary: Ekaterina Mikhailov was born in a world where being who you were was a crime punishable by death. Born in the snow-laden forests of Sortavala, Russia, Katya learned at a young age that her kind wasn't wanted.To escape persecution from both the mortal and wizarding world, she ends up in New York City selling paintings in seclusion. That is, until a certain wizard comes to America and Katya learns about what the world could be.
Relationships: Newt Scamander & Original Character(s), Newt Scamander/Original Character(s), Queenie Goldstein & Tina Goldstein, Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey girls, gays, and theys, I wrote this just for the fuck of it all, because I wanted to. If you wanna read it and hit me up with that sweet feedback, that'd be tight. If not, I mean, that's also tight. Just throwing it out there that this main character comes from an alternate state of Russia. Russia isn't as it's portrayed in this story and you'll see why later on. So, just throwing that out there. I love Russia. And Katya is one bad bitch so I hope y'all like her as much as I do.

The winter breeze lightly drifted across the still air of the chapel nave, causing burnt remnants to be carried like sand from the beach across the vast expanse of the shore. The sun shone brightly above the wreckage, almost as if God's eyes were staring down at what his enemy had done. The world outside blurred as the flames covered every visible entrance.

Families, friends, simple day-to-day churchgoers were gathered in their own chorus of fearful cries just outside in the small-town streets of Sortavala, Russia. Various choirs of townspeople yelled for something to be done, for someone to go back inside, yet all I could hear was the voice of my mother.

"She's still inside-"

Over the loud roar of the still growing fire, her voice drowned out before I could call out to her. Instead, I continued to sit, trapped in the nave of my church, knees clutched up to my chest, my head resting on top. I was too afraid to open my eyes, fearing that my trapped mind would have nothing left to do but count the various charred bodies surrounding me in the burning pews.

My eyes stayed tightly shut, the jungle of noises all meshing together to form a song of fear and fire. I opened my mouth to scream, to drown it all out, but all that passed my lips was a whimper, one word.

"Momma."

It was desperate, a cry that someone in their painful last hours would utter to drown out the fear of incoming death. I knew she couldn't hear me. I knew she wouldn't come back for me. I was a lost cause. A seven-year-old girl trapped inside of her Sunday mass chapel while everyone else joining her had already spoken their last prayers.

Part of me wished I would join them. The other parts knew I wouldn't. How could I when I was the one who caused it all to begin with? But how could I just walk out unscathed when everyone else was gone? How come I survived?

While everyone would be mourning, my family would be arguing about what to do with me now that my "special abilities" as my father called them, would be too great to ignore.

I steadily lifted my head, meeting an ocean of fire with an emotionless gaze.   
I did this. How did I do this?

I reached my hand out, just to try. One could always hope.

My fingers slowly turned over the flames, and the tears I had been holding in began to cascade down my cheeks once I felt nothing. The only pain I experienced was the falling tears as they dissolved into my skin like dowsing a campfire in water. That burned me, but somehow my hand coated in the same flames that burned an entire church to the ground was fine, painless, normal.

I recoiled, clutching it to my chest as I stood up. The ground beneath me creaked as the wood panels started to crumble.

Everywhere my eyes fell, there were waves of flames, crashing in every direction, eating all the leftovers from the church's build that were left. I couldn't hear anyone outside anymore. I couldn't tell if it was because the roaring flames were too loud or if everyone had fled the scene in fear of the fire engulfing the rest of the street.

I turned to find where the door would've been before it was ripped apart and thrown to the ground in charcoal dust. Wood planks that created the roof had fallen in its place, blocking my only way out. The windows weren't safe, seeing as the frames were lined with jagged, melting glass. A gaping hole in the right side of the building, where I'd been sitting when the explosion had gone off, looked to be my only plausible option. The plaster of the walls had crumbled and formed a large wreckage pile that I would have to climb through to reach the cement lot below.

I made my way over, painfully cautious as the last thing I wanted was to fall straight through the floor and into the basement where there would definitely be no way out. The wood moaned and groaned beneath my steady feet as I balanced on the remaining boards still holding on for dear life as their insides seared apart. Large holes were scattered across the nave, dark enough to know that the basement would be a long fall, but the embers brightened the room below just enough to see the rubble piles decorated with the bodies of those who didn't make it up the stairs in time before the ceiling came crashing down.

To get to that makeshift exit in time, I would need to make a run for it or else the rest of the ceiling would fall in, blocking my way and probably crushing me in the process. So, that's what I did. I ran for it and as soon as my feet hit the first board with such force, it snapped in half, leading me to scream and jump ahead, my knees sinking into a pile of burning boards. Glancing behind me, I saw the area I had just crossed as another addition to the several holes already made in the floor.

If I was just one second slower... or if I just hadn't run for it.

The warm sting of blood rushing down my legs was enough to make me look down at the damage my fall had caused me. Two scuffed knees covered in cuts, blood, and soot (from the building or the bodies, I didn't know). I whimpered, the pain searing through me the way the fire should have felt.

But, I didn't have time to dwell on it. There was no point in staying there any longer and grieving about what I had done or wondering why everybody had just left a seven-year-old in a burning church to die.

I picked myself up off the ground and made a break for the pile. My blood covered hands dug into the soot, the broken wood planks, and the shattered glass from the two windows next door. It didn't take me long to realize that my hands were adding blood to the pile as they suffered more and more injury from the various remnants of the church.

The light of day outside had turned sour, the clouds hiding the sun from view as rain pounded down on the pavement. I hesitated.

That's water.

I was never a fan of the rain, for specific reasons involving the fact that I was practically made of fire, but I would usually just stay inside and avoid it while my sisters played in the puddles in our driveway. But this time, there was no avoiding it. I had to run out there and take it all in.

That's gonna hurt a lot, I dreadfully thought to myself as I reached a single finger out to touch the rain.

One raindrop. That's all it took, and I was pulling back, too afraid to go out there and face that kind of pain. Me walking into a rainstorm would be like an average human walking into a bonfire. It was suicide. More painful than anything a person could endure. It could kill me if it wanted to. If I wasn't careful enough.

So, I stayed inside, waiting for the rain to subdue the fire eating up the rest of the church like a man who's been stranded in the desert for three weeks.

I plopped down in that rubble pile. The pile filled with dead bodies and broken pieces of the church they had all come to worship in, topped off with the only girl who wasn't welcome sitting atop it as if it was her throne. A little ironic if you ask me. The devil child sitting atop a pile of rubble from her own destruction of God's house. It was fitting for the name I was given around town, the rumors spread about me and what I could do.

Soon enough, the fire would be out and my family would come looking for me. They'd stand in shock at the sight of her sitting, expressionless atop a pile of destruction, while the rest of the church joined them. They'd all ask questions that nobody knew the answer to.

"How the hell did she survive?"

"Is this her? The Mikhailov daughter?"

"Who left her inside?"

"How is she unburnt?"

They all gazed at one another but then turned towards me as if I had the answers. I simply stood up and ran towards my mother who was still in shock with her arms crossed around her chest.

I flung myself around her, my arms grasping her waist for dear life.

My eyes turned up to hers, and the look she gave me made my heart sink. I had finally done it. I had scared my own mother away from me. She kept her arms crossed over her chest, tighter since I had hugged her. Her eyes were wide. Forest greens that always had hope and love in them for me. But, they changed that day. They were filled with fear. My mother almost shook at the presence of me in front of her.

Her child was clutching onto her waist, reaching up with blood-stained and soot-covered hands as her Sunday mass outfit held the remnants of the building in smeared dust that covered her skirt and blouse in rough patches. And she finds her in the midst of one of the largest fires in Sortavala's history, alive and well. Not burnt, not melted, not touched by the flames in any way.

Deep in the back of my mother's mind, she knew I had done it. She knew I was getting more unstable by the day and had taken precautions to warn my father about it. She waited for this day. Had nightmares predicting the events of this day. And now she was living it and had to be the one to take that nightmare home with her.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to meet the gang, y'all!

As soon as I walked inside, I knew it was a bad idea. I almost turned on my heel and sauntered right back into the New York City streets, but I knew as soon as I got back to my apartment, I'd have to come right back. I rarely wanted to leave my tiny, one-bedroom apartment. Every time I did, I risked being seen, being noticed. By MACUSA, by a no-maj, by anyone who could see the nervous glint in my eyes as I quickly sped down the sidewalks.

However, to stay secluded, you had to pay the bills to keep your seclusion, thus my journey to the bank began. I planned on asking the teller to put the rest of my money away I had made from my last sold painting. I didn't have much, but I couldn't risk it getting taken from me on a dark night when I didn't have much to begin with. The only problem with the bank was Joseph, the one and only teller that tries to swindle you out of your money, and the one that I somehow always got stuck with.

This trip wasn't made very often for Joseph's very existence, but I left that morning with my envelope, my big girl shoes and my fist ready if I needed to knock someone out for complimenting me on my "Quite form fitting top, if I do say so myself."

As I briskly walked to the front desk, I could sense Joseph was there as soon as I opened the front doors. I didn't even have to look for him. His overbearing stench of cologne was enough to alert me to make this trip as fast as possible.

To keep my eyes anywhere but Joseph's already growing smirk, I decided to count the number of red, marble columns scattered around the teller's line. I stopped just behind the third person in line for the only teller in the entire building apparently, still counting up to 12 pillars. My eyes wandered across the lavish room, the walls a tan marble pattern just like the columns, ornate golden frames hovering above every entrance to the main room, accompanied by about four dark, brown leather sofas stationed in each corner. The number of patrons was small, which calmed my growing anxiety some.

The person in the very front had finished, moving our line forward at a snail's pace. I would've thrown my head back and groaned impatiently if I weren't in a public place.

I decided to keep myself busy, tapping the heel of my knee-high boot against the marble floor. I stuffed my hands in the pocket of my red blazer, eyes wandering over the different types of people just... waiting around. For what, I didn't know. Maybe waiting for the grass to grow outside?

I caught the gaze of an older woman hugging her expensive looking purse close to her body as if someone was going to try and nab it from her on their way out. She glared at me with her beady, brown eyes, seeming to protect that very bag with her life. I gave her a half-smile before turning the other way, although I could still feel her gaze burning holes into the dark brown hair covering the back of my head.

As I glanced over to the right side of the building, I watched a larger man take a seat with a brown briefcase in hand. He had a bright smile on his face and seemed to radiate this childlike excitement. Just glancing at him made me crack a small smile.

He couldn't stay still as he sat, he leg bouncing against the floor. A hand came up to smooth out his greased-back, dark brown hair, making sure it was perfect before scanning the rest of the room. He spotted me before I could look forward to see another person out of the line and nervously smiled, giving a small wave before folding his hands in his lap. I gave him a wave back, a grin growing on my lips.

Staring at the clock on the wall, I sighed, realizing this was taking a lot longer than I wanted it to. My eyes turned back to the door, and for a split second, I wondered if I should even bother. Those trips were never exactly the highlight of my day and I wasn't desperate yet. Maybe if I just-

What the hell is that?

Something rubbed up against my legs. Something furry, I swore to God it was furry. My eyes drifted down to my legs to see what looked similar to a platypus trying to climb up my right leg. His little hands were reaching for something, his eyes staring in wonder up around my neck.

I reached a steady hand around my bright gold Star of David necklace that hung down the front of my white blouse. I'd had it for years, the necklace belonging to my best friend before he passed, the family then gifting it to me to always remember him by. If this creature wanted it, I'd have to sadly decline to giving it up.

Although, it wasn't giving up. Not in the slightest. If anything, my hand covering the jewelry made the animal want it more.

It crawled away from my leg and instead made a break for the table Joseph was sitting at, waiting for me to come forward.

"Next," he monotonically spoke as he scribbled something in a notebook.

I was off in la-la-land though, searching the bank for any way this creature could have gotten in. Yet all I saw were people scattered around the room, sitting on the leather sofas, minding their own business.

"Next!" This time, he lifted his head, raising his voice to get my attention.

I turned to him. "Sorry."

He looked back at me, one eyebrow raised, asking without asking what I was doing.

"Just... I'm a little out of it today."

"That's nothing new," I heard him mumble as he cleared his space of his notebook.

His head sunk underneath the desk and the creature that I had watched climb onto the counter had made an Olympian-like jump onto my shoulder. I jumped, a quiet but forceful, "Oh, shit!" It was quiet enough not to alert the security guards but just enough to get the attention of just about everyone else. Thank God that thing made its way inside of my blazer before any eyes spotted it.

Joseph popped his head back up, a tuft of blond hair that hasn't been slicked down, bouncing up and down like a bobblehead. "Are you okay, Miss Mikhailov?"

"Yes, yes fine," I quickly tried to cover.

Come to think of it, I should've gotten more credit than I did on that day. Starting a normal conversation with a rodent in your blazer pocket trying to grab at the necklace hooked around you was more difficult than it should've been. I was stuck between closing the front of my blazer completely over my chest (which I wasn't opposed to, seeing how Joseph's eyes wandered) and making excuses for him to avert his eyes elsewhere. 

"I need to put this in my savings account, please," I spoke, setting down the envelope on his desk as I tried to hurry along. The creature's claws started to dig into my side as it slid into my blazer pocket, and I was not very happy about it.

"How much is it?" He asked, eyes meeting mine as his hand stilled, about to write down information that I know he didn't need.

"You never asked me this before. Why do I gotta know now?"

"Bank policy."

I almost laughed. He knew he was making it much harder than it had to be and I had a fucking lost animal in my jacket trying to steal the only thing I had that I actually cared about! My day was already hard enough.

"It's three hundred. Would you just put it in my account, please? Before I call your manager and tell him that his prized teller has been staring at my tits like any gentleman would for the length of my time here?"

He sighed, as if I was the bother in this situation. "I'll be right back." As soon as his head vanished beneath the stairs, I huffed, moving my hand inside my blazer to grab the little thief that had actually unhooked my necklace! It was holding it tightly in its hands, stuffing it into what I could only compare to a kangaroo pouch in its stomach.

"Excuse me?" I asked in disbelief as I watched it stuff the rest of my necklace down its pouch. "That would belong to me, sir."

Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder. "Um... hello."

I turned to stand face to neck, mind you, I'm a little shorter than the average Russian witch, with a tall, redheaded man. He seemed to be from England, telling from his thick accent, but every Brit I had ever come into contact with wasn't so... nervous.

He kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, moving his hands in and out of his blue coat pockets, and could only hold eye contact with me for about half a second before he had to turn away.

"Am I going to presume this is yours?" I asked, holding it out to him but hiding it from the rest of the room inside of my blazer.

He nodded, a scolding look in his eyes. "Yes, yes that would be my..."

His eyes turned back up to mine. I could see the concern. He didn't know whether I was one of him or not.

"Your...?"

"My niffler," he spoke just below a whisper.

"Ah, well he decided to spend his time gawking at my necklace. He seemed to have stuffed it in his-" I didn't know how to describe it so I made an odd gesture pointing to my stomach which had to look as insane as it sounds.

"Yes, I saw. I apologize. He needs to learn to stay put," he scolded the niffler as he held him in his palm.

A second passed before I heard Joseph's voice return to his desk.

"I'll get that to you," I heard the man whisper as I turned to address Joseph.

He didn't even glance up at me, but I wasn't complaining. "It's in your account. Good day."

I smiled. "Getting rid of me so soon?"

He scowled at me, his mouth pinched closed which told me he had a few choice words for someone like me. Not that I minded. I had a few choice words for him as well.

"Good day," I cheered, as I turned to find the ginger. He was kneeling on the ground, searching under one of the leather sofas when I approached him.

"Bugger- where have you gone now?" He muttered.

"Don't tell me you lost him again," I spoke from behind him. My voice must've scared him as he jumped and bumped his head on the bottom on the sofa. He quickly stood up, running his hand gently through his curly hair to find the spot he had hit.

His eyes widened as he saw me standing in front of him. "Yes- I mean- I- I know where to find him."

"Is that why you're looking under the seats?" I asked, pointing to the sofa he was just underneath.

His mouth fell open, ready to speak, but he was immediately cut off as the voice belonging to the smiling man from earlier called out. "Hey, Mr. English Guy, I think your egg is hatching."

And faster than lightning, I watched him pull out his wand, point it at him, grab my arm, and suddenly we were all apparated to a completely different part of the bank, by the stairs heading down to the main vault I presumed.

He immediately grabbed the egg, holding his wand in his mouth, watching as it hatched in front of us. As the pristine, white egg started to crack from the inside, a multicolored beak popped out, followed by the blue and purple head of some kind of species of bird. I didn't know the names. I wasn't a zoologist.

"Woah," the man mumbled, who I could tell quickly was a no-maj to have a reaction like that.

I suddenly became very anxious, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. I couldn't be involved with a no-maj. I couldn't be involved with anything. All I needed was my necklace and I'd be on my merry way.

"So sorry to interrupt a moment like this," I said, looking behind me to make sure we were alone. "But I have a necklace I need to find."

The Brit's eyes glanced back to me. With his wand still in his mouth, he muffled, "Of course."

He started walking down the stairs, towards the bank vault and my eyes caught sight of his briefcase for the first time. He had that same energy as the woman upstairs and her purse. Protective.

"So, we supposed to follow?" the no-maj asked, standing next to me, stunned.

"I guess so."

I followed him down, my dark chocolate brown strands swaying around my shoulders as I descended the stairs. 

I caught sight of the Brit as soon as I rounded the corner to the vault. He was leaning down, gently lowering the newly hatched animal into his open briefcase. That's when I caught sight of the niffler just past him. He wiggled his body through the crack in the vault door, disappearing without a trace.

"Uh... Mr. English Guy? He just went into that vault," I pointed, joining in on the nickname seeing as I had nothing else to call him.

His head perked up. He ran forward, making sure to close the case behind him, before pulling out his wand.

"Alohomora."

The vault door squeaked open just enough for him to squeeze through. As soon as he walked in, he stopped, staring down at the mess his creature had made. Personal vaults were opened, gold, bills, and coins all scattered across the floor as the niffler sat in one of the open vaults stuffing gold bars down its pouch.

"Really?" The Brit asked before rushing the creature and picking him up by his back legs. He quickly moved to the center of the room where he started to shake the animal upside down, causing all of his hoardings to fall to the ground in the middle of the bank vault.

All of that gold and money, and still no sign of my necklace.

If only that damn thing didn't mean so much!

As soon as I saw it hit the ground as the last thing out of the niffler's pouch, the voice of the bank manager sounded behind me.

"Oh, so you're gonna steal the money, huh?" His hand was reaching for the panic button on the wall.

"No! Don't do tha-"

Then the alarm sounded.

Wonderful.


	3. Chapter 2

Before I could even think to grab my wand to stop the chaos, the Brit behind me yelled out, "Petrificus Totalus," which caused the bank manager to fall with a loud thud to the vault floor.

"Mr. Bingley!" The no-maj cried in protest and probably fear to see that this man was just paralyzed right in front of his eyes.

"You know, we may want to hurry," I mentioned to the Brit as he struggled to get the niffler settled in his palm.

The alarms still blared, footsteps running rampant just above us. I was sure any second an army would come bounding down the stairs, rifles loaded and aimed.

And just as I expected, security guards barreled down the stairs not even ten seconds later, guns pointed at the three of us. I reached down into my boot, reaching for my wand. I knew that whatever I was about to do might be a bad decision, but I would be damned if I died as part of a half-ass bank heist to get a goddamn necklace from a niffler. I pulled it out, aiming it at the six guards lining up at the bottom of the stairs.

But before I could even open my mouth, a hand was wrapped tightly around my upper arm, and then we were behind a column in front of the bank, in a flash of light. I fumbled to find any sort of balance, my legs as strong and stable as jelly. I leaned back against the bank wall, closing my eyes as I pushed my wand back into my boot.

"Right. For the last time, you pilfering pest, paws off what doesn't belong to you." The Brit opened his case, shoving the niffler inside before latching it shut.

He stood up, reaching inside his pocket as he searched for something. After about thirty seconds of digging, he pulled out my necklace. "There we are."

He handed it over to me. "So sorry about that."

I breathed a sigh of relief, a smile reaching my eyes. "Thank you."

I hooked it around my neck again, happy to have my only gift from home back in my possession.

Meanwhile, the no-maj was having somewhat of a mental collapse. He leaned back against the pillar, straight as a flagpole, pointing nonchalantly at the case. "What the hell was that?" he asked, breathless.

"Nothing that need concern you," he reassured, looking back at the case and then to me. He was looking for something, his eyes crinkled in concentration.

"Looking for something?"

"My wand. I know I had it-" his hands dipped into his back pocket, producing the wand. "Ah, there we go."

He turned back to the no-maj, whose eyes were wide and afraid. He gazed over at me, clearly asking for help. I simply shrugged in the "what can you do" way. I knew the Brit was going to obliviate him. What other option was there after all that?

"Now, unfortunately, you have seen far too much," he started, fixing his suit blazer and dusting off the shoulders. "If you wouldn't mind, if you just stand there, this'll be over in a jiffy."

It only took me one second to realize that the no-maj was going to make a run for it. But, it took me two seconds too many to miss the no-maj going for the case and smacking the Brit upside the head with it. He fell to the ground, leaving the no-maj walking gingerly down the well-populated streets of New York with a sincere, "Sorry."

"Are you okay?" I asked, holding a gloved hand out to him. Better safe than sorry. I'd never hear the end of it if I burned someone with a simple handshake.

He grabbed onto me and I hauled him back up. He swayed as a hand went to rub the forming bruise on the side of his temple.

"Bugger."

"As long as you're fine, I think I need to head out. This looks like more your problem than mine." I was rushing to get out of there as soon as possible. I felt like my words all came out like a waterfall, all nonsensical and too fast to comprehend.

I didn't wait for a reply and speed-walked my way through the alley side of the building. I kept my eyes to the ground as a young woman ahead of me seemed to be going to the Brit. I just knew that if I kept my face down and got to the street I could make it home.

But as soon as she passed me, her hand hooked its way into my arm and I was being dragged all the way back to the scene I had just fled. 

"You're not leaving," the woman assured me, pulling me along with her at an alarming speed that my heels could barely keep up with.

The Brit's eyes widened as he picked up his case, ready to leave, but was stopped by a woman he'd never seen before holding onto the woman he just watched leave with a death grip. He knew he was fucked.

Before he could even speak a word of protest, she grabbed his arm and once again, we were off in a completely different place. Across the street and down a little way but I had every right to complain. Apparating makes you sick when you never do it and then do it three times in the last twenty minutes.

We were all crowded in a dark alley, stuffed between two businesses. I hunched over, my head spinning like a carnival ride.

"Are you alright?" The Brit whispered to me.

"That's not exactly my daily routine and I was just forced to do it three times. My head feels like it was stuffed inside a blender."

"I- Sorry," he apologized, stumbling over his words.

The witch in front of us seemed clearly unamused by my sickness and continued to interrogate us as if I wasn't about to throw up all over her shoes. Maybe then, she'd give me a minute.

She sounded out of breath as if she had to scale the mountains to chase us down. "Who are you?" She switched between glaring at me and then to the Brit next to me.

I opted to stay silent, knowing that this was someone who absolutely couldn't find me out.

The Brit kept his eyes on me as I struggled to stand up. My mind was still in one hundred pieces but if I leaned against the wall, I'd be able to keep myself standing, which was all that mattered to me at that point. But as soon as the woman before us had spoken up, his head perked up, and he met her eyes for just a moment before glancing down the street.

"I'm sorry?"

"Who. Are. You?" She asked, enunciating every word. I lifted my head up, finally able to get a good look at her. A tall brunette with short hair covered by a dark blue hat and a long, baby blue colored coat. She had an innocence to her as well as a fire I knew I shouldn't test.

The Brit met her eyes. "Newt Scamander. And you are?"

"What's that thing in your case?" She asked, ignoring his earlier question.

He paused, eyes darting around before finding his tan boots. "That's my niffler." He sounded embarrassed, but I guessed that anyone would be who just had just lost their niffler to roam around a bank, stealing everything in sight.

He looked back up to the witch, pointing to a spot just above her lip. "Say, you've got something on your..."

She quickly recoiled, her entire body tensing up as she leaned towards the wall.

"Why in the name of Deliverance Dane did you let that thing loose?" She looked to both of us this time, eyes stopping on me.

"Don't look at me. I just showed up at the wrong time."

"I didn't mean to. He's incorrigible, you see. Anything shiny, he's all over."

"Oh, you didn't mean to?" She asked, arms resting on her hips as she thought.

Newt looked confused and a little offended. "No."

"You could not have chosen a worse time to let that creature loose. We're in the middle of a situation here," she whisper-yelled, bringing her face closer to his to make her point clear.

She thought for a moment, her hickory colored eyes staring down at the concrete before turning back up to meet my bright silver ones. And as soon as she met my gaze, she stopped. Her arms that were previously on her hips were lifelessly dropped to her sides. Her mouth practically fell open as she moved closer to me, staring straight past my eyes and towards something else. I knew exactly what she had found. Just behind my eyes, a swirl of flame, a dash of red that gave the silver world of my eyes color. It showed up at just the right time, telling me I needed to get rid of some energy before it started building up to be too much to control.

"What?" I nervously asked, trying to back up but realizing that I was already against a wall.

"Oh my god," she breathed, taking one step more slowly than the next.

"I'd really appreciate it if you let me be," I gruffly spoke, but I couldn't deny the squeak that fell past my lips before I started speaking.

I was afraid, no doubt about it. This woman, who knew what she was, but I had a pretty strong feeling she worked for MACUSA. Nobody else would stop strangers on the street to drag them to an alleyway and ask about the magical creatures loose in a bank. And if this woman worked for MACUSA, I was fucked. They'd find me out. And then I'd be executed.

"I thought all of you died out," she quietly spoke once I tightly shut my eyes to keep her out.

I sighed. "So did I."

She seemed to shake the moment off before returning to Newt who was switching gazes between the two of us, trying to figure out what was going on.

"I'm taking you in," she finally decided. Then she turned to me with an expression as solid as stone, but just behind her eyes, I could see a sadness. She pitied me and my situation. "You too."

My mouth dropped open and the flood of words that I so desperately wanted to come out were stuck, trapped in my throat. Newt decided to interrupt before I fully broke down. "Taking us in where?"

That's when she pulled out her card. "Magical Congress of the United States of America." Porpentina Goldstein. My heart sank all the more when she had fully shown it. There was no getting out of this now. Maybe if I just begged her, we could work something out.

"So you work for MACUSA. Are you some kind of investigator?" Newt asked.

Next to him, I was drifting out of space. My mind was racing with the possibilities of what would happen to me, all of them ending in my death. What would my family think when they got the letter from MACUSA saying that their daughter was dead due to charges she wasn't in control of? Thank god my sisters were overseas or there would be riots in the streets outside of MACUSA's main building.

She stayed silent, eyes wandering to me. "Please tell me you took care of the no-maj."

My head lifted as soon as the silence had followed, two pairs of eyes wondering what had just happened to me. "I'm sorry, what?"

Porpentina turned to Newt now, but he only gave the same response. "The what?"

"The no-maj. No-magic. The non-wizard!" She was going increasingly frustrated as the two "criminals" she took in had no idea what was going on.

"Oh sorry, we call them muggles," he responded, all eye contact gone from their conversation once more.

"You wiped his memory, right? The no-maj with the case?" She reiterated.

I stared worriedly at the answer he'd give, knowing that whatever he said could decide what happened to me as well.

Newt looked over to me, which only made our situation look worse. "Um..."

"That's a Section 3-A, Mr. Scamander," she said disappointingly as if we were children and she expected better from us.

Then she turned on me. "And you... who are you, Miss...?"

I could tell based on how much calmer she spoke to me that she felt bad about what she had to do. There was no point in lying. Giving a fake name and a fake background would easily be unbelievable, especially when MACUSA has records on every witch and wizard in the city.

"Katya. Ekaterina Mikhailov. But people call me Katya."

"A Russian? You don't have an accent."

"Decided it was for the best to lose a little bit of it when I came to the states. Immigrants seem to be better off without any ties to their home, here."

"How long have you been here?"

"Next month marks six years."

"How old?"

"Twenty-eight."

"Well, Miss Mikhailov, I'm sorry but as a witness to the scene, you chose not to obliviate the no-maj, thus breaking the same law as Mr. Scamander, here."

"And that's all you'll be taking me in for?" I asked, terrified of the answer. I was pleading with her at this point, my eyes saying all that needed to be said.

She seemed to think, her feelings conflicted. Job or morals? Tough decision. "We'll see."

And with that, we were gone once again. The fourth time that day and I hadn't even had time to calm my headache.


	4. Chapter 3

My feet hit the middle of Wall Street with a thud, causing me to stumble as soon as Porpentina started picking up speed, dragging the two of us along beside her.

"You're really in a hurry," I mumbled, tripping over myself as I struggled to tuck my wand all the way back into my boot as it had shifted and almost flown out as we apparated.

"Come on," she frustratingly spoke, pulling us along.

"Um- sorry, but I do have things to do, really," Newt spoke, looking every which way around him, probably to find the fastest route to run in.

"Well, you'll have to rearrange them," she snapped, moving faster across the street.

"What did you come to do that took you to the bank with a niffler in hand?" I asked, realizing that his story already sounded sketchy.

His eyes drifted down the street as she spoke, "I came to America to buy a birthday present."

My eyebrows creased in confusion. "Sounds like a lotta trouble to hitch a ride over here for a birthday present."

"There's only one Appaloosa Puffskein breeder in the world and he lives in New York so..."

I decided to just drop the conversation there after Porpentina shook her head, giving me the side eye for asking in the first place.

She dragged us over to the main entrance of MACUSA which covered as the Woolworth Building. "I've got a Section 3-A," she told the security guard at the front, who immediately opened the door for her without question.

She turned back to the two of us who were awkwardly standing next to each other like school children forced to meet their parent's friend's kid.

"Hey, by the way, we don't allow the breeding of magical creatures in New York. We closed that guy down a year ago," she chided, eyes meeting the wandering gaze of Newt.

She waved us forward, in which we shuffled through the door to get out of the way of the many other wizards and witches trying to pile through the four different entrances. As soon as we walked in, she hooked her arms around ours again and led us to the left, taking us up a long staircase about thirty people wide. I was in awe as I watched the hundreds of magical personnel scuttling around, cleaning wands, sending papers, meeting with higher-ups. Hundreds of floors of thousands of different departments were something that I could barely comprehend all lived in this one building. I'd barely ever left my own apartment, much less seen something like this. Normal, everyday wizards and witches weren't even allowed to glance through the window at this place.

Safe to say, I'd grown up around a lot of magic, but the closest thing I'd seen to this was the Magical Russian Embassy in which I was six and my father worked there as a law practitioner. Even then, I'd only seen the front lobby, the elevator, and the office he worked in, which wasn't much.

A large dial the size of the New Years Eve ball hung above the top of the staircase, all four sides holding a dial with an arrow pointing into the Severe Unexplained Activity category colored deep orange. Behind, covering the entire southern wall was a large rectangular tapestry of Madam Picquery, the President of the Magical Congress.

I watched as an elevator traveled up and through the clouds to one of the higher floors, disappearing from sight in just a few seconds. Porpentina's eyes fell on my bright gaze.

"Never been here before?" She asked as she walked us over to an elevator with a house elf waiting inside, leaning on a cane.

I turned to her, my happy expression wilting a little. "Pretty sure if I came here, I wouldn't come back out."

She nodded solemnly, eyes darting forward as Newt was still staring in amazement at the building around him. I couldn't help but crack a smile at how he looked like a kid who was just seeing magic for the first time. He was awestruck.

We came to a stop in front of the elevator. I glanced over at Porpentina, who was staring daggers into the house elf.

"Hey, Goldstein!" He sounded surprised to see her. He looked over to Newt who was already looking away and then turned to me. His eyes started to crinkle like he was looking for something in me. I turned away, pretending to be interested in the house elf behind me cleaning wands.

"Hey Red," she begrudgingly replied, pushing the both of us in the elevator. Of course, I had the pleasure to be standing right next to the house elf who couldn't stop staring at me. I could feel him trying to figure me out. He knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the fact that my eyes were starting to turn my vision red, indicating that I was losing control more quickly. Maybe it was the hundreds of intricate markings that swirled and crossed over every inch of my body just under my skin. Since the color of my eyes was starting to glowing red, I could feel it turning those marks under my skin the same neon crimson color that would soon start to show up if I didn't make this trip quick.

"Major Investigative Department."

"I thought you was-"

"Major Investigative Department. I've got a Section 3-A."

The house elf pressed the button to take us up, closing the gold-encrusted gate in front of us as we started to ascend. The entire time up, I could feel the heat from my wand in my boot. All the red flags were going off at once. My wand, my eyes, my marks. Everything was telling me to get the hell out and get the hell out now. I wished I could've cussed that witch out for bringing me in at a time like that.

The house elf leaned over to Goldstein, whispering in her ear. "You know that girl is a-"

"Hush, Red," she interrupted before he could finish. She gave him a glare. "You keep that to yourself. No one would believe it anyway." She folded her hands in front of her and we finished the trip.

Once the door opened, she was out like a flash of lightning, weaving us between groups of people every which way to pull us into a dimly lit room. I was still reeling from the fact that she had covered for me in the elevator. That elf knew and she told him to shut it. It gave me a little hope that maybe not all people wanted me dead.

She pulled us deeper inside to what looked like a meeting. The President and her colleagues all around a table, discussing something important while we barged in, sending all of their eyes to us.

"I made your position here quite clear, Miss Goldstein," Madam Picquery started as she walked out to greet us.

"Yes, Madam President-"

"You are no longer an Auror."

She was waiting for an answer, causing Porpentina to hide into her shell.

"No... Madam President, but-"

She sighed. "Goldstein-"

"-There's been a-"

"This office is currently concerned with very major incidents. Get out."

"Yes, ma'am," she squeaked before jogging off with the two of us in tow.

All the while, I felt eyes tugging at the back of my head. I turned to see the President's co-worker, co-director, co-whatever gazing at me, having that same look of confusion that the house elf did. His dark eyes followed me out and for the second I glanced back at him, he smirked, giving me a half-assed attempt at trying to cover himself up. I turned around and walked faster than Porpentina, causing her to jolt and hurry up.

It's getting more obvious.

"Where are we going?" I asked, hoping she'd say that I was free to go home.

"Just follow me."

She led us down too many flights of stairs to count, dropping us off in a crowded office with a sign overhead labeled Wand Permit Office.

She unhooked her arms from us, going to take off her coat, laying it over the chair behind her desk. I plopped down in one of the chairs opposite her desk, rubbing my fingers across my temples to try and get rid of the pulsing migraine that was continuously growing.

"So, you got your wand permit? All foreigners have to have them in New York," she turned to Newt, her voice wilted from her earlier exchange with the President.

"I made a postal application weeks ago."

She wrote it down in one of her notebooks. "Scamander... and you were just in Equatorial Guinea?"

"I just finished a year in the field. I- I'm writing a book about magical creatures."

"Like an extermination guide?"

"No. A guide to help people understand why we should be protecting these creatures instead of killing them."

She simply nodded, turning to me. "And you?"

My hand was covering my eyes as I slouched back, trying to steady my spinning brain.

"What about me?" I mumbled.

"Do you have a wand permit?"

I dropped my hand to my side, leaning up to rest my arms on my knees. "You know what'll happen if you write that down."

"My job is my job, Miss Mikhailov. I'm sorry."

"I'm barely even a foreigner," I tried to argue. "I've been here for six years. Almost seven!"

"Are you a citizen of the United States, Miss Mikhailov?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

I didn't answer. Instead, I stood up, reaching down into my right boot to pull out my wand. I knew right when she saw it everything would be explained. My wand was nothing like any others. It was carved out of yew wood, one of the most unpopular choices as most who have owned one have fallen to the Dark Arts. It was a simple eleven inch, slightly bent, yet incredibly thin wand, the handle being twice as large as the rest. When I was gifted it at the age of ten, it was burnt, charred and greyed like wood that had been placed in a fire overnight and brought out the next morning. Lines and divots appeared in the wood, showing the core. A red glow illuminated from the abrasions, showing that the core of the wand was made from fire itself. I was told it was made special for me, that over twenty wandmakers slaved over it for days, but when I received it, it was just a stick to me. It wasn't until I was taught how to properly use it that I realized how much it helped me. It helped to control me, the fire inside of the wand controlling the fire inside of me. They always said the wand chooses the wizard and mine definitely chose me. It would only work for me.

I pulled it out, knowing that it was scorching to the touch, seeing as my wand was giving me the same warning as the embers inside the core grew hotter, increasing the brightness of the glow that illuminated from the missing pieces in the wood.

When she looked over to see me holding it between my thumb and my forefinger, her mouth dropped. Newt also looked slightly taken aback, having never seen a wand quite like that before.

"So, you are an Elemental?" Porpentina asked, awestruck.

My eyes widened, whipping my head around to see if anyone else was lurking behind a corner. "Shhh," I warned.

She almost didn't realize she said it out loud, leaning back and opening up her notebook again. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. I just- I can't- you're- you're still alive?" She asked, disbelief lacing her words.

"Taking it day by day. I can't see it lasting much longer," I admitted, my eyes still turned completely around at the door to the office. I met Newt's eyes as I scanned the room. His eyebrows creased as he gazed down at my wand, confusion sparking in his vision.

"I've never seen a wand like that before."

"It was specially made."

He laughed. "I can't even tell what wood it is because it's so..."

"Charred?"

He nodded.

"Do you mind if I..." Porpentina asked, her eyes still glued to the incisions in the wood.

"Not a good idea," I replied, tucking it back in my boot. "It's charred and burnt for a reason. Only I can touch it without it giving me any trouble."

She nodded, scribbling notes down on her paper.

"Goldstein?" A voice sounded from behind. I jumped and made sure my wand was tucked all the way in as Goldstein made a duck and run beneath her desk, pen and paper still in hand.

"Where is she? Where is she!" a man in a three-piece suit, important-looking, fumed, stalking up to her desk. "Goldstein! Goldstein?"

He waited for her to stand up beneath her desk which she did ever so slowly, peeking her eyes out first and then cautiously standing up, awaiting whatever verbal attack this guy had to give out. 

I, however, was stuck wondering, Where have I seen this guy before? He looks so familiar. Too familiar for me not to remember him.

"Did you just butt in on the investigative team, again?"

She stayed silent, setting down her writing utensils.

"Where have you been?"

"What?"

He turned to Newt. "Where'd she pick you up?"

"Me?"

I looked over to Tina who was shaking her head. Don't say anything.

Her boss then turned to me. "You. Where'd she get you?" As soon as he said it, his eyes widened slightly. Almost as if he recognized me just as I had thought I recognized him, but even as he stared at me, I still couldn't place my finger on where I had known him.

"Oh, I just popped in for a visit," I smiled.

He groaned, turning back to Goldstein. "Have you been tracking them Second Salemers, again?"

"Of course not, sir."

Footsteps lightly sauntered behind me, and I turned to see the same man staring me down in the meeting room. With hair slicked back and shaved down the sides, and a smooth black suit lightly following his every step, he walked and sounded important. Whatever part he was given in the play, he played it.

Coming to a stop right behind the chair I was hunched over in, his hands moved from his pockets to rest against the top behind my head.

"Afternoon, Mr. Graves, sir," Goldstein's supervisor spoke, straightening his stance as he stared her down.

"Afternoon -uh- Abernathy," he replied, eyes forced on Goldstein as well.

God, that name. I know that name. Where the hell do I know that name?

She stepped forward with a determined look on her face as she stood before one of her higher-ups. My heart jumped into my throat at the fear that she could easily throw me under the bus right then and there, but I continued to keep my mouth shut and stare down at the floor.

"Mr. Graves, sir, this is Mr. Scamander. He has a crazy creature in that case and it got out and caused mayhem in a bank."

My head turned towards the two as she spoke, unbelieving how well she was able to kiss ass in a second. "Are you kidding me?"

She and Graves turned to me. Goldstein gave me a glare, telling me without telling to shut my mouth or she'd add something else to the conversation.

"And who would you be?" Graves insisted, leaning forward as I stood from the chair he was hovering over.

"Nobody. Just- a visitor. Don't mind me. I apologize for... interrupting."

He didn't seem to be happy with that answer and stepped forward, eyes concentrated on every move I made, making me feel so many different levels of uncomfortable. It felt invasive like I was completely invisible and he could see every little hidden secret. I averted his gaze, wrapping my arms around my chest.

Without moving his gaze from me, he pointed back to Goldstein. "Let's see the little guy."

Before Newt could object to someone taking his most prized possession, Porpentina grabbed his case, throwing it on a table next to her desk.

I watched his mouth open, trying to find the right words to say, but nothing came out. He tried to move forward and snatch it back, but only his left leg took half a step before he refrained from that idea too.

Leaning against the desk, I watched as Goldstein braced herself before popping the case open, revealing nothing but pastries from a bakery.

"That's a crazy creature you got there, Goldstein," I mumbled, soft enough as to where she didn't hear, but just loud enough that as Newt stared at the open case, he bit his bottom lip to stifle a laugh, which failed, mind you.

Pretty smile, if I'm honest.

He walked over to the case, the panic finally setting in his eyes as he got closer. He must not have even seen what was inside when I made my sad attempt at an angry joke because he would not have laughed if he noticed that his personal animal sanctuary was completely gone.

"Tina..." Graves mumbled in disappointment as he made his way out the door.

"What- where- where would it be?!" Newt quietly panicked.

That's when I remembered the no-maj at the bank. Right before he walked out into the street, he grabbed a case.

"They were switched at the bank," I replied, staring down at the baked goods that filled the case to the top. "They had to have been. The no-maj and you both had extremely similar cases. And he wasn't really in a hurry to see which one was which before he ran off."

"So, where's the no-maj, then?" Tina asked.


End file.
